Sands of the Amaranth Hourglass
by SeleneSoulwar
Summary: AU. War rages among the races, the genocide campaign launched by the vampires slowly consuming minorities. An orphaned werewolf, through a series of misfortune and his unlikely bond with a digruntled noble, will change everything. SasoDei. Yaoi/gore


A

A.N./ Hola! Returning to my first and still pretty much main fandom with a new multi-chaptered fic Good news for those of you who watch me for my SasoDei I suppose XD has been neglecting them and misses them

I've written this quite a while ago, but forgot to post it here.

Well, this fic was just waiting to happen. I love supernatural, I love yaoi and I love Naruto.

Bam. XD

First take on AU, so please comment and critisize :D

There will be multiple pairings, both yaoi and het (maybe even yuri, who knows? XD)

Main one will be SasoDei, of course, and many of the Akatsuki pairings too

I really hope you'll like it!

--

Sands of the Amaranth Hourglass

_Prologue_

**Warning: Contains strong gore/violence, strong language. **

Magic.

Perhaps there's no other term that is surrounded by so much controversy as this one. Sorcery, perhaps merely an illusion, all logical yet illogically crafted for mere entertainment, for fascinating the crowd and make a shambled living.

However, although it's thoroughly shunned and ridiculed, thousands still dedicate their lives into proving its existence to the public – or proving that they too wield supernatural powers deep within them.

Whether they use it for the benefit of humanity or to fulfil their own desires and to mould history to their liking is yet another question.

However, only those with little intelligence flaunt their skills and brag.

Those with any sense hide away their skills and try to keep their powers from public knowledge.

However, it does get tiresome to keep quiet after long centuries of being abandoned in the realm of the knowledge-less mortals.

The routines of wearing long caps to hide the pointed tips of elf ears, the false teeth shielding the sharp canines from view, or the long sleeves and gloves to disguise scales or fins get tiresome and slowly loose point after the first millennia or so.

The world has changed.

Perhaps for the worse, its history more violent and bloodier with every decade – yet strangely more tolerant.

Tolerant towards mixing of race, towards aspects of sexuality, towards people in general.

Perhaps I speak naively.

Perhaps I am shut in a bubble of tranquillity, while in the rest of the world is just as intolerant and hostile towards those who are different then back in the olden days old ferocious witch-hunting.

Perhaps I happen to be one of the extremely privileged ones.

But if that's the case, then nobody should have any objection of me telling the tale of the ancient war that once tainted my birth-land with innocent blood.

And even though the war was between supernatural races, the reasoning behind it was all-too similar to the ones of mortals when they engage in these pointless massacres.

Hate. Rage. Prejudice.

So if you know you'll scoff at the mere idea, kindly leave right now.

I have little patience for those who make fun of the words I have kept inside for so long.

Little patience – and an uncontrollable thirst.

Three millennia ago, when the Sun too was still tainted by the blue shell of its infancy, the ancient portals still existed between the different dimensions. Crafted by ancient goblin and elven engineers, they were scattered across the highlands, deep in the sacred woods – even in the sulphur hearts of the volcanoes and in the very depths of the oceans.

The human realm, still struggling to survive the impact of its birth, was weakly linked to the rest of the Universe through a single portal.

Unlike the smoking barrens of the Human realm, our world was a prospering paradise of some sort. Almost every sort of creature, from the tiny, mischievous forest pixies to the enormous mountain trolls and the ice dragons roamed freely, unaware of each other's differences.

However, like all utopias, this one was abruptly shattered when the Goddess of War sheathed her fiery arrow, its sparks of hate fuelling two races to make the essence of existence the task of destroying the other.

_Vampires. _

The ancient, aristocratic race. One of the first ones to ever walk on the land and to master magical crafts.

Deathly precise and often labelled as cold, their society was based off rigorous rules, yet the other races would often label them hypocritical and racist behind their backs.

However, it didn't change the extent and amount of knowledge acquired by the vampires, nor their blossoming trade system and culture, which was widely enjoyed and depended on.

_Werewolves._

Just as ancient, perhaps, but their lifestyle couldn't be more different.

Rash and hot-headed, they were mainly ruled by instinct and emotion.

Perhaps animalistic, but that didn't have any effect whatsoever on their status as the most refined hunters.

With crude but calculating methods, werewolves were the unchallenged rulers of the forests and mountains, where no prey was safe from their fangs.

Apart from the occasional squabble and flares of jealousy for the other's prosperity, the two races were content on trading and living peacefully amongst each other.

…_but that one spell…that one slice of the blade…that one tinge of curiosity tore this already fragile peace apart forever…_

As the elder's husky voice fades into a low murmur, her amber eyes, heavy with sorrow and nostalgia grow misty, the flames of the first sparks of hatred licking at the backs of her retina, the hatred ringing in her ears.

As the ability to doubt something that doesn't agree with the normal flow of the world, neither is curiosity absent in the races blessed with unique blood traits.

Even if it means going against the firm, stone-carved rules of morality.

Perhaps it wasn't her intention to cause such chaos. As she insisted, voice hysterical, still clutching the broken scalpel in her numb, bloodied claws as she was unceremoniously dragged away – she only wanted to find the hidden link, the missing chain to what determines the difference between species and the flow of magic in cells.

"_It was meant to help us"!_ she screamed, watching the tall figures merciless smash her hideout apart, a lifetime's research going up in furious flames, painted crimson with the fury and the bloodshed about to come.

Enraged that people lost their lives to the research of a werewolf scientist – or, as the guardian of the orphan victims started calling her and her team - _mangy dogs that belong in the deepest pits of hell_, vampires gathered in massive rallies before the prison that she was held in, demanding they give her out to the public, to the relatives and friends of the victims.

The punishment would be the most fitting end for this _butcher whore_, they all screeched, canines flashing in anticipation.

The guards attempted to push the crowd back, but the furious nobility's determination to rip the werewolf in the cell apart didn't waver.

The tug-of-war continued, the guards not wanting to use weapons or spells against their own kind – until a small werewolf child, barely half a decade old, so enthralled in the commotion, leaned forward from the branch she was seated on with her playmates.

So enthralled in fact, she never paid attention to her vampire companion, who caught her shoulder to pull her back.

From the sudden touch, she flinched violently – and tumbled forward – in front of the feet of the oncoming crowd.

As if in slow-motion films, her playmates watched in silent horror as she flipped on her stomach, shaken from the sudden fall, then turning around, emerald eyes widening, mouth opening to attempt a scream that died at its infancy as the sturdy boot of the first vampire crushed her windpipe and sent her body flying a feet forwards. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, landing on her back, lips still parted. The gravels pavement behind her were coated with a sheen of crimson, the deathly tint starting to drip down her young features slowly.

Like a porcelain doll, given to a blossoming psychopath to cherish, she laid at the feet of the guards, her small tail already drenched with blood.

As if someone pressed a button, the crowd suddenly fell quiet. A few disbelieving gasps were heard, before a shrill scream of utter terror rang through the air.

"HINASA!!" the small brunette crouching on the branch she was minutes ago screeched, face taking a sickly, chalky shade of pale. The crushed, mutilated face of his sister reflected for a second in his disbelieving amethyst gaze.

A single drop of shimmering transparency fell into the nothingness before the small boy whirled around to face the other boy, whose expression mirrored his previous horror, hand still extended to where Hinasa's shoulder was moments ago.

"What the bloody 'ell do you fuckin' think y're doin'?!" he cried out, a furious glimmer to his rapidly moistening eyes, roughly grabbing the vampire's shoulders and shaking him. "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU JUST DONE?!"

"…I…I…I just…" the other stammered, still partly paralyzed from the utter shock of the events. "…I just…wanted to…she then…"

"You pushed her!" the cold accusation rang loud in the silence, the other's hand shaking with the effort to contain himself.

"NO!" the other immediately hollered, flinching away from the other's hand, eyes wide with horror.

"YOU DID!" the young wolf roared painfully, a snarl of pure loathing etching its way across his sorrow-ridden features. "YOU KILLED HER!"

"_I didn't kill Hinasa!_ he cried out desperately, crimson eyes wide and teary as he searched narrowed emerald. "I swear, I swear I didn't!"

His sole answer was a disgusted grunt and a murderous glare before he was pushed back from the branch.

Eyes widening, a brief questioning crossed his mind - _Has time…just stopped?...is this how she felt…?_ before he abruptly crashed onto the pavements, head first.

A series of terrified screams masked the sickening squelch of the impact, the spray of blood staining the clothes of those who stood close when the main jugular was torn open. The shattered neck let the skull snap to the side, wide, shocked crimson eyes staring disbelievingly at the crowd, slowly draining out of their sockets onto the pavements, mingling with the dark blood of the unfortunate girl, just a metre away.

Shock descents down over the crowd once again, before one of the drenched vampires began to shake in rage.

"How dare you…" he whispered venomously, pointing a shaking finger at the werewolf. "You little scum! You're no different to that slag of a dog in the prison!"

The body of the vampire boy was soon surrounded by weeping and horrified women, while the men joined the first one in pointing at the orphaned wolf on the tree, shouting obscenities.

"Little son of a bitch!"

"Same as that bitch – all werewolves are scum!"

"Fucking murderers!"

"_Dogs!"_

"Let's teach them a lesson!"

What took place afterwards was a shameful afternoon that mocks the very foundations of civilization. The enraged vampires literally tore the two remaining werewolf children apart, enraging the guards of the same kin – resulting in an enormous massacre, in broad daylight.

Deep inside the stone fortress, the black haired female buried her face in her hands, tears leaking between her fingers, thin body shaking in the cover of her fishnet clothing.

"…there'll be no stopping for them now…" she whispered brokenly. "…there's no turning back for us now…"

The spark has been lit under the smouldering tank of kerosene. A new spring came, the wind howling through the empty streets, the bloodied grains of sand dancing in the turbulences, straight into the blood-drenched sunset.

Somewhere in the moon-lit fields, among the dew-covered covered leaves, a fragile-looking bud tentatively opens its delicate, plump petals. Its silky crimson sheen is immediately invaded with glistening diamond tears of the mist.

The amaranth shakes them off with a gentle sway of its stem, scattering them in the wind.

With the spring came the blossoming of serenity.

Joyous times.

Time of birth and new beginnings.

"Dear, wake up!"

"…mghsst…"

"Dear, hurry!"

"…"

"WAKE UP YOU LAZY EXCUSE OF A REPTILE BEFORE I BITE YOUR TAIL OFF!"

The large form shook suddenly, snatching his head up abruptly and consequently banging it hard on the low ceiling of the shaded cave. The indignant crittering of the small swarm of bats, just literally shaken form their slumber echoed through the shady area as they flew out into the dawn.

He growled in pain and annoyance, rubbing his throbbing forehead against a mossy boulder, orange eyes blinking hazily, trying to get used to the light conditions.

…wait, why was he up again at such an idiotic hour of the morning?

"ARE YOU AWAKE YET, YOU LAZY SCALED LUMP?!"

Oh yeah. That.

He yawned, long silvery tongue flickering out to taste the air before pushing himself up and trudging over to his hunching partner, nuzzling her scaly neck with his nose.

"I am up, darling…what is it?" he murmured sleepily, his tail wrapping around the end of the female's tail as he settled next to her.

She shifted her gaze to look at him, glittering silver eyes wide. She nuzzled him back, blowing a few playful smoke rings at him.

"Took you long enough! Look!" she exclaimed, shifting so the other could see what she was shielding between her long talons.

He frowned and blinked in surprise. "…y-y'mean…one of them is actually…"

"Yes!" she replied with an excited shiver, blinking hopefully at the shaking egg, tail squeezing her partner's.

They watched in expectant silence, hoping that this very last egg would hatch…the year had started out so hopeful, with a dozen or so eggs. But after two weeks, the heartbroken and enraged mother was nursing only three, courtesy of hunters and frail infants.

Two of them had hatched, but the little ones inside were no more then a collection of frail bones and skinny organs, very nearly a corpse.

And with their kind in serious decline, every loss was a disaster and an enormous blow – both emotionally and in regards to the future.

But the squirming inside the granite grey egg was strong and persistent. The eggshells cracked and suddenly, a charcoal claw poked its way out of the eggs, pushing the shell apart with some difficulty.

Both parents drew in a breath of relief when the infant crawled out into the light.

"…look at him…" he breathed in, smiling proudly as they both extended their necks and observed the now curiously sniffing little one.

With bright, grey eyes, numerously rimmed, apart from the bright ginger scales and fins along his back, he was completely black, soft graphite and with opaque tints along his stomach. He had curved, dangerous-looking talons on his feet, and a long tail with a dual spike at the end. He blinked and sneezed, trying to open his wet wings, hanging limp beside him.

"Bless him." His mother chuckled, moving and closing her jaws gently around the scruff of his neck and lifting him closer, chuckling at the little one's squeak of indignation. She then began to lick him clean from the transparent liquid, once full of nutrition, off his body, cradling him close.

The father smiled and laid his heavy body down beside them, nuzzling her lovingly. "So, it seems you won the bet. It is a boy."

"Mmm. Told you." She answered, just a _tiny_ little bit smug. "So, can I name him Pein, then?"

"…yes, you may." He sighed dramatically, licking her playfully. "If it makes you happy."

The infant, now dry, lifted his wings experimentally before deciding he was too tired to go through the trouble and curling up in the promising warmth his mother provided.

"…Pein." His father echoed, observing him before opening one large, velvety wing and raising it, shielding his mate and child from any spying eyes. "…you have no idea how glad we are that you are here now…"

His mate just gave him a loving look and curled around the yawning infant. "Don't burden him with future responsibilities, love. Let's just rest now. Birth ain't an easy thing, you know."

The other's flame coloured eyes rolled good-naturedly before he scuttled closer. A peaceful silence returned to the cave, now only broken by the soft breathing of three.

"…what are you saying? He only crawled out of an egg…"

"…dear…"

"Have you looked at how those other races give birth? They struggle and writhe in agony for hours…"

"…_Nagato…"_

"And then they have to be hooked up on all sorts and-"

"Say another word and I claw your eyes out and serve it to Pein for breakfast next thing he wakes up."

"…sorry, dear…"

_Times of rejoicing._

"Konan! Hey! Konan!"

The small figure raised her head, blinking in surprise before getting tackled to the ground by a smaller figure. She fell face first in the long grass with an extremely dignified cry of 'Ooomph!'.

The attacker laughed in delight, tugging on the bluenette's folded up wings with her sharp teeth, nibbling playfully on the leathery surface, grinning when she heart the other shriek.

"Ne, Konan-chan, for being such a…what was it again? Oh, _sophisticated member of our clan_" she recited the expression their sensei complimented the currently suffocating girl with earlier in the afternoon, then leaned to whisper in her ear. "…you balancing skills sure _suck_."

She then sat back, awaiting the response with a soft giggle.

She wasn't disappointed.

"…you have approximately three seconds to get off me."

"Awh, Konan-chaaaaan…"

"Demon, get off me, or I will suggest and make sure we use you in our next hunting sacrifice."

"You wouldn't dare, bitch!"

The blue haired girl pushed herself up, turning around to face the other, her dark, demonic eyes glinting with menace.

Soon, the misty swampland was roughly awakened by the delighted shrieks and cusses of the two demon younglings, one threatening the other with various forms of torture once her throat was in her claws, the other just laughing with child-like amusement.

However, the new winds ignited the slumbering coals of hatred. The new flames born are vicious, hungry, devouring everything in their path.

The moon-lit field is now bathed in aggressive tints of orange and crimson. The amaranth's petals crinkle and curl into a smouldering, frail black paper-like scrap.

Times of destruction – when everything falls apart.

"Move it, men! Faster!"

"Sir, the explosives are spreading beyond out control…seems you ordered us to lay and ignite more then necessary…"

"Don't pay it any heed."

"But, _taichou_, the whole camp could-"

"Less filth and scum to deal with l-"

"_DEIDARA!_"

A panicking female voice cut through the monotone orders, struggling to be heard above the steady roar of the flames and spreading chaos.

Among the ruins of tents, the young woman frantically dodged the sizzling fragments, spat out by the flames, hissing menacingly before returning to their feast of devouring the tents.

Worn out by the iron teeth of time, the painstakingly constructed homes of the werewolf clan crumbled apart like dry autumn leaves in the mere duration of a few minutes.

Not paying much heed to the destruction around her, the young female paused for a moment, sniffing the smoky air until she doubled up, clawed hands shielding her nose and mouth.

Bright cyan eyes, swimming in peppered tears, darted frantically among he flames.

"Deidara!" she called again, doubling up in a coughing fit immediately afterwards. "My little one, _where are you?"_

A frown crossed the dirt-caked features of the young werewolf as he shirted to his left feet, trying to allow some blood-flow to his other leg. Staying in this crouch for such a long time really was damn uncomfortable.

Yet another reason why werewolf anatomy was beyond logical understanding.

…scrap that. Humanoid anatomy was beyond logical understanding.

The blonde sighed before shaking his head, squinting with effort and peering into the shady burrow once again. He resisted the urge to sneeze from the overwhelming scent of fresh earth before standing up with a sigh.

"Stay there then, un!" he snapped, brushing the dirt from his clothes, tail snapping towards the burrow. He then turned in the other direction, trudging down the hill with a sulky expression, wincing when his numb legs protested against the sudden pace and position change.

From the nearby hollow tree trunk, a cautious pair of eyes peered out, watching the werewolf trudge out of sight before jumping on top of the log, croaking in disbelief.

And they say frogs were stupid…

Somehow, the so-called superior intelligence of mammals never ceased to amaze him…

Deidara sighed again, making his way down to the valley, gnawing on his bottom lip.

_They're going to laugh at me when I tell them I couldn't even catch a frog… _he thought miserably before dropping down on fours, deciding it was the fastest way to get home before sunset.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he growled and threw himself forward with greater force, enjoying the wind as he dashed through the thick grass. He took a sharp turn through the trees and leaped down the rocks –

…to be met with a wave of terrifying heat and smoky smell of Hell.

Stopping dead in his tracks, azure eyes widened as the blonde slowly straightened up, slowly absorbing the screams, the panic…the destruction.

He swallowed, taking a nervous step backwards, unable to tear his eyes away.

Every nerve of his shaking body was telling him to run. To run as fast as he came, hide in the woods then come back a day later…

"_DEIDARA!"_

The call tore him from his panicked paralysis, head snapping to the side. He recognized the doubled-up figure with a jolt.

"Mom!" he cried out, sprinting by her side, small arms wrapping around her, tugging with a desperate movement. "Mom, what's going on?"

Watering cyan met frightened azure, and the blonde was swept up in a hug moments later, his mother's face buried in his neck.

"Oh thank the Lord, Deidara…" she murmured before straightening up. "Come on!"

"What's going on, un?" he asked shakily, hanging onto her torn blouse.

"Vampires." She said curtly, turning to dodge between the cindering wooden poles, holding her son close.

She turned – to find two spears pointed at her throat.

"Stay right there, bitch." The vampire barked out.

"Finally, found another one. And look, this one has a little bastard!"

Her movements turning rigid, she held the blonde even closer, trying to inch away from the blades. "…let us go."

The two guards shared a look before laughing crudely, the left one grabbing her by her long, brown locks and roughly shoving her to the ground. The other guard took hold of the blonde by the scruff of his neck, ripping him out of his mother's embrace and throwing him to the side.

Deidara cried out from the impact, pushing himself up just in time to see the guard throw her across his shoulder, ignoring her screams and pleas. She clawed across his shoulders and bit down on his neck in desperation.

A holler. A flash. A snap.

And the thud of a lifeless body ungracefully hitting the ground.

Deidara's disbelieving screech was lost in the laugh of the two vampires, as they hauled him up by his bloodied hair.

"…should we kill this runt too?"

The blonde growled and spat at the smug grin of the other, baring his canines, wanting nothing more then to rip the smug expression into bloody ribbons of flesh.

The man, however, just chuckled.

"This one should be fun to break. Take him to the camp."

His companion nodded and a second later, Deidara flopped limp in his hold, blood trickling down his temple as he was hauled out of the burning, smouldering shell of home, his mother's figure slowly embraced by the flames.

_But the flames too can be quenched with the right amount of water. _

The barren wastelands echoed the soft footsteps of the solitary figure, hugging her thin figure, the ebony of her bones peeking through the ragged, scarred skin of her arms. The large outline of her wings stood out sharply against the mist.

Brushing her matted locks out of her eyes, she rubbed them for what seemed like the thousandth time. Kicking an offensive-looking rock out of her way, she glared at the mineral as it bounced on the dirt path sourly.

In an ironic way, it seemed like she was kicking herself.

Like that damn stone, she too was alone now.

Furrowing her brows deeper, she was about to take off in an entirely different direction when she heard a soft cry.

Intrigued, she turned in the direction where the noise came from, abandoning all caution.

If that thing ripped her apart, honestly, she couldn't care less.

Bony hands pushing the dry twigs obscuring her view to the side, she cautiously crawled through the spiky cage they formed, folding her wings close to her naked back. She hissed low in her throat when the thorns scratched her skin viciously, warm blood seeping down between her shoulder blades.

When out of the bush, she wiped the blue liquid off her skin, flexing her wings, curiously peering around the rubble of rocks, eggshells and shattered bone fragments.

Rubbing her shoulder, the blue-haired demon began to pick her way across cautiously, the soft cries getting louder.

Climbing up a boulder, she peered down, nearly loosing her balance when seeing the source of distress.

Curled up in a tight ball among half-rotten straw, brown with dried blood, was a dragon infant. Midnight-black save for the vibrant orange scales and fins along its spine, with tiny, spiked wings, which were wrapped around itself tightly.

Konan blinked a couple of times, making sure it wasn't some drugged mirage before jumping down from the rock – effectively alerting the little one of her presence.

Whipping his head up, ringer obsidian eyes moist with tears, he growled menacingly, ivory teeth bared at the demon.

She raised an eyebrow and flashed her own fangs, the black sclera emphasizing her burning amethyst irises.

The dragon flinched and whimpered unintentionally, curling himself even tighter.

Konan lowered her wings, and stepped forward slowly, kneeling besides the broken nest cautiously, reaching out with a skeletal hand.

"Hey, hey…don't be scared. I won't hurt you…" she whispered softly, tips of her fingers brushing gently against the tip of his wings, tracing along the bony ridges curiously.

Slowly, one of the silver eyes of the dragon was made visible among the masses of leather and scales. Uncurling cautiously, he reached forward to brush the tip of his scaly nose against her fingers, snorting in surprise at the texture.

Konan chuckled, gently petting him, tickling him under the chin, earning a surprised squawk.

"Man, you're cute." She remarked, thumb brushing along his fins gently. "And y'know, we were told dragons were almost extinct…but, here you are…so little too." She mused, frowning. "You must have just hatched…where are your parents?"

The little one's ringed eyes flooded into a silver sea of depression as he burrowed his face into her skeletal, fleshless hand, whimpering again.

Konan blinked before reaching forwards and slowly picking up the dragon infant.

Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around its muscular frame, hugging him lose to her chest, stroking along his back. A faint smile crossed her pale lips when the she felt a tail wrap around her waist, the infant snuggling deeper in her embrace.

Standing up, with her new…pet? Friend? Sibling? In her arms, she began to pick her way through the rubble again, holding onto him securely.

"…I'm sorry about that, little one…you know…you might very well be the last dragon in this vampire-hunted world…" she murmured in his ear. "…and I might as well be the very last demon."

She paused, demonic eyes hanging on the orange disk of the sun, just about to dip behind the mountains before a squawk snapped her out of it.

The dragon was staring at her, gaze questioning and frightened.

She smiled, kissing his forehead. "We're alike, little one. And we'll get by…one way or another."

A blink. Another. Then a little murmur as he buried his head in the thin material of her dress.

She chuckled, hoisting him up higher before raising her head, letting her bruised and bony feet take them into whatever direction they fancied.

Little did they both know of the crouching hunters behind the same boulder Konan climber, arson and poisoned arrows in steady, gloved hands.

"We found the little one."

"And the survivor of the demon raid too. Yes, that rare one, with the rotting flesh…yeah, those."

They listened to the instructions and raised the guns.

"_Where are you taking me, un?"_

"I won't give him to you!"

"_Get you hands off her!"_

"MOVE IT, SCUM! Faster!"

The witch-hunt for werewolves had slowly extended to any creature bearing a fraction of difference to the noble vampire race.

Methods previously deemed inhumane and madness were now the main motives behind their leader's plans.

_Genocide._

And as the hate-consumed nobility crushed and strikes at the ones considered inferior, the sands of the opal-encrusted hourglass, hidden among the all-telling instruments of the Gods, counting the lifespan of fragile peace and tolerance of the oppressed keeps trickling, faster every day.

Time is slowly but surely running out for both of us.

TBC


End file.
